


there's sun on my skin, i am brand new

by anneweaver



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Night, Weddings, aaaaand i just gave away the entire plot, i have absolutely zero shame anymore, more like three twists, pregnancy announcement, seychelles holiday with two twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneweaver/pseuds/anneweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma's original plan for their Seychelles holiday gets derailed in the best way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's sun on my skin, i am brand new

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic comes from We Are the Kids, by Walk The Moon.

_i. i’ve got my hand in my pocket and there’s a diamond at my fingertips_.

They arrive to their cabin right as the sun starts to set. May flew them to the island, the barest hint of a smile showing on her face when they had asked her to do this for them, and nodded in both response and approval. She doesn’t get off the quinjet to send them off, only says “be safe” from the cockpit and waits until they’ve finished dragging their luggage inside the cabin to take off again, leaving them completely by themselves for the first time in what feels like eons.

They watch the quinjet disappear into thin air, all responsibilities they could possibly have disappearing with it, and sigh at the same time; this is the first time in  _ years  _ they can finally relax, sleep in, sleep  _ together _ , and not worry about the world potentially ending or the people they love dying. Jemma’s hand moves to grip Fitz’s and they look at each other, almost expectantly, tiny smiles barely gracing their lips, as the sunlight starts to fade from the big window.

“Well,” she says, matter-of-factly, “we’re finally here.”

“We are,” he agrees, and takes one step back, then another, his hand still linked with hers, and starts dragging her towards the backdoor. She throws her head back, groaning.

“Fitz, I have  _ plans _ ,” she complains, when he doesn’t stop tugging at her arm, “and we’ve been here for about ten minutes, the beach can wait.”

“But it  _ can’t  _ ,” Fitz reasons, “it’s almost sunset.”

“We can watch the sunset from the window?” she offers, and he glares at her and huffs.

“We did not come here to watch the sunset from a window, Jemma. If that was your plan all along we might as well just have stayed at the base–”

“Okay, okay, fine!” she concedes, and tugs at his hand, pulling him closer to her. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead, before nudging her with his hip.

They walk towards the beach, their hands linked together on top of Jemma’s shoulder.

-o-

The moment the sun starts to set, a raindrop hits the crown of Jemma’s head. She doesn’t pay any attention to it; her gaze is focused on the horizon where the sea meets the sky, her fingers interlaced with Fitz’s, her thumb softly running over his knuckles.

She’s content. She’s happier than she ever remembers being, and for the first time in years, she feels like she can just sit and  _ breathe.  _ There is no urgency, no deadlines, no death lurking around every corner; right now, she’s just a woman sitting on the sand, her boyfriend next to her, watching the sun disappear behind the deep blue sea, and there’s absolutely no one else she would want to be.

A second raindrop hits her head, followed by a third on her arm, and she turns to look at her boyfriend.

“It’s starting to rain,” she says, matter-of-factly, and there’s no urgency in her tone, no rush. He shrugs in response.

“Leave it,” he replies, and slides an arm around her waist, pulls her closer. The sand tickles her thighs, but she doesn’t care, instead focuses on the warmth now spreading all over her body despite the weather.

The rain starts to fall harder. The sand around them starts getting damp, and then becomes puddles of mud, splashing wet sand all over their clothes; Fitz sighs and drops his arm from its place around Jemma’s shoulders and stands up, offering his hand. She takes it, and he pulls her up.

“Should we go inside?” she asks, but he knows her heart is not in it.

Despite the fact that their clothes are now sticking to their skin, and they’re cold and soaked wet, the very act of enjoying the rain feels like a luxury they can’t afford in their normal lives. So he shakes his head in response, and they stand right there under the heavy downpour, toes digging on the sand; he locks his arms around her waist and her hands find their way to his neck, her fingers running through his hair, and they close the small gap between their bodies. Their foreheads touch, damp locks of hair sticking everywhere on their faces, and they take a moment to just breathe this moment in, breathe each other in. 

When he opens his eyes, he takes a few seconds to admire her. She looks so blissfully peaceful, he wouldn’t know everything she has been through just by looking at her right now, soaking wet and grinning almost maniacally, enjoying the feeling of the rain on her skin.

She looks absolutely stunning.

He moves one of his hands from her waist to her face, and his thumb runs through her cheekbone. She leans into his touch and sighs happily

He sighs, too, as his thumb softly touches her eyelids and her eyebrows, trying to commit her face to memory just by touch. He says her name, and she hums in response, the smile still not wiping off her face, and his thumb moves subconsciously to her mouth, touching her lower lip softly. Her smile grows bigger, and he clears his throat. The words on his throat escape from him helplessly, but he can’t bring himself to regret what he says next. 

“Let’s get married,” he whispers, as if that’s what he was always meant to say, what was always meant to happen between them, as inevitable as the sun setting and rising again.

She opens her eyes, but doesn’t falter, doesn’t freeze, the smile on her face doesn’t disappear. Her hand moves to rest on top of his own, and she locks their fingers together. “Right now?” she asks, and he nods. She buries her face in his neck, inhaling deeply, breathing him in, and her arms wrap around his chest, tightly, like she’s holding him together. Maybe she is.

“Right now,” he says, his voice louder this time, surer, “right here.”

She nods, subtly first, and then enthusiastically. A manic giggle escapes from her mouth and she plants a soft kiss on his clavicle. “Let’s get married, then,” she agrees, and giggles again. 

Their eyes find each other’s, and their lips follow suit. Around them, the rain keeps falling.

  
_ii. we’ve been waiting but we’re next in line._

Fitz didn’t bring any formal clothes, obviously, so he settles for a pair of beige pants—the only ones he packed—and a simple white shirt. Jemma comes out of their cabin bathroom wearing a short, flowery sundress, and a white sun hat, despite the fact that it’s the evening; there’s nothing special about her outfit, but she takes his breath away anyway. For him, every second that passes is the most beautiful she has ever looked, and he feels infinitely lucky about the fact that this woman is about to become his, forever.

He extends his hand and she takes it without hesitation, and it feels like a metaphor for their lives.

“We don’t have any rings,” he comments, while they walk towards their rental car, and she stops, stands on her tiptoes and places a quick kiss on his cheek before resuming their walk.

“Fitz, I don’t need a ring to remind me that I’m yours forever,” she replies. Warmth spreads all over his chest.

“I love you,” he blurts out, then, because he cannot help himself. She laughs.

“I love you too,” she says, and when she’s about to open the passenger seat door, he rushes and opens it for her. She grins. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, I  _ am  _ the romantic one,” he teases her, and she rolls her eyes.

When he pulls out of the driveway, his hand on the stick shift of their tiny rental car, she places her hand on top of his and laces their fingers together. 

His eyes are fixed on the road in front of him, but he finds that the beautiful landscapes of the Seychelles Islands at night have nothing on the woman sitting next to him, holding his hand, as they drive through the gravelly roads.

-o-

The chapel is small and empty at that time of night, but the priest, an amicable, tiny black man, is more than willing to marry them in such short notice and without any witnesses. He gives them a few minutes by themselves as he prepares, and they sit in the front pew, hands linked on top of Fitz’s lap.

He turns to look at her, and she seems to be staring at nothing in particular, lost in thought, a small smile on her lips. When she meets his gaze, her smile grows.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks her, and she shrugs.

“I was thinking of my vows,” she explains, and he frowns, only just realizing he hadn’t thought of any vows either. She seems to realize his train of thought and shakes her head, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. “Don’t worry about it, we can just use the traditional ones.”

In that moment he looks at her,  _ really  _ looks at her, her brows furrowed, and sees how lovingly she’s looking at him and how hard she’s trying to be reassuring and comfort him over something so small, and he knows exactly what he has to say. 

“Oh, no,” he rushes to say, “wouldn’t want all that thinking to go to waste, would we?” She smiles brightly and leans forward to kiss him, when the priest walks in, interrupting their moment.

“Ready?” he says, and they immediately jump from their seats. The priest smiles.

The beginning of the ceremony passes in a blur, them only noticing each other, their hands joined while the priest gives a sweet speech about what it means to love each other. Before they know it, it’s time to say their vows, and the man nods at Jemma to start. She nods back and turns her body so she’s facing Fitz, and clears her throat.

“From the moment we met,” she starts, eyes already shining with unshed tears, “I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, in any capacity; in fact, I could never picture a future where you weren’t in it. I think… I think, we’ve both been through hard things, I know, but believing that future I had imagined and planned and hoped for would never be possible?  _ That  _ was the hardest thing for me. But now we’re here, now we’re  _ really  _ standing here and that future I so desperately wanted is about to become a reality, and now I realize that if everything we went through led us to this moment, all the pain and the heartbreak and the grief, I would still do it all over again. I wouldn’t change a thing,” she lets go of his hand to wipe her cheeks, and then smiles at him, the sweetest smile he has ever seen on her face, “but now we’re here, now my dream future is about to start, now I get to wake up next to you every single day of my life—and, I mean, who knows, maybe even next to our kids,” she jokes and he snorts, squeezes her hand a little tighter, “and I think, for the first time in years, I can finally say I can’t wait to see what the future brings for us, I’m–I’m looking forward to it. So I, Jemma Simmons, take you, Leopold Fitz, as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live and, hopefully, even longer than that.”

Fitz doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jemma lifts her hand to wipe his own tears, and he blinks a few times. She looks at him, almost asking him with her gaze if what she just said was appropriate or  _ good _ , and even though he already had an idea of what to say, seeing her in front of him, baring her deepest thoughts and feelings for him to know, and smiling through her tears… that is the one vow he will treasure the most, for the rest of his life.

The priest motions for him to start, and he clears his throat in an effort to not sound as emotional as he feels.

“Just now when I realized we didn’t write any vows,” he starts, “and you offered to use the traditional ones, I started thinking about what the traditional vows said, and what they meant. And I realized, is there anything from those vows that we haven’t already done? You have had me from the moment I first laid eyes on you back at the Academy, and you’ve held me together through every moment in my life I felt I was going to break; all of the best moments of my life are made better because you’re in them and you’ve weathered all the worst storms by my side, and, really, ‘in sickness and in health’ speaks by itself,” he deadpans, and she lets out a teary laugh at that, “but my point is, I don’t think there are any vows, or any words for that matter, that accurately describe what you have been to me, and what you  _ are  _ to me, but I could try. I could try to tell you you’re my soulmate, my north star, my constant, my heartbeat, my strength, my home. I could try to tell you how happy your very existence makes me, I could try to tell you that you have made me a better person just by loving me, and that every time you look at me you make me feel like the happiest, luckiest person… but you agreed to be my wife, so now I don’t have to  _ tell  _ you, instead I can spend the rest of my life trying to show you how essential you are to me. So I, Leopold Fitz, take you, Jemma Simmons, as my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live and definitely even longer than that.”

They look at each other for a few moments, wordlessly trying to convey in just one look how much they love each other, and the priest clears his throat.

“Well, then,” he says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss one another.”

Jemma’s face breaks in the brightest grin Fitz has ever seen and she wraps her arms around his neck, as his hands rest on her hips, and he pulls her body closer to his, closing the gap between them, their mouths eagerly finding each other’s. Their kiss doesn’t last long, since they’re both smiling too wide to be able to kiss properly, but their foreheads stay together for a while longer.

They stand just like that, bodies pressed together, now joined in every possible way, in front of the tiny priest and the universe and every deity.

Outside, the rain has stopped.

 

_iii. in the low light, two white shadows become one_

The drive back to their cabin is silent, only because they find that words just aren’t necessary right now. They revel in each other’s presence, each other’s warmth, their hands linked together on top of the stick shift just like before, except this time even the most mundane of things feels overwhelming, because now they’re married. They are each other’s, forever, and now it’s official.

They walk slowly, hand-in-hand, from their rental car to their cabin. They don’t rush, instead they enjoy the feel of the sandy, gravelly front path on their bare feet, and the feel of the other’s warmth in the cold weather. Everything is bigger, better, amplified now, the cold sea air hitting their faces and almost blowing Jemma’s hat away, the sound of the cicadas like a symphony around them, the light of the fireflies in a nearby tree making it look like a starry sky, the dark sky, covered in grey clouds and some lightning. 

They reach the door of their cabin and stop, while Jemma fumbles with the keys in the darkness. Fitz looks at her, completely enraptured, and when she lifts her gaze and finds him staring, she frowns. 

“Something wrong?” she asks, and he shakes his head, takes one step towards her.

“Not at all. I’m just… happy,” he sighs out, his voice infinitely warm, and her face immediately softens. She stands on her tiptoes and leans forward, planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose. He immediately laughs.

“I’m happy too,” she comments, and pushes the door open.

The inside of the cabin is darker than they were expecting, the only light coming from the large window on the back. There’s barely any moonlight, so when they walk in, they can only see each other’s shadows, and Fitz shoves his hand inside his pocket, trying to find his phone to illuminate the room. Jemma realizes what he’s doing and grabs his forearm.

“I need to find the light switch,” he explains, but she steps closer to him and shakes his head, pushing the door closed with one foot. 

“Leave it,” she says, her voice deeper than he’s ever used to hearing, and moves her lips to his.

He’s taken aback for a moment, the feeling of her lips on his still as indescribable as the first time, and then he kisses her back, his hands moving to her hair. She’s still gripping his forearm, her nails almost digging on his flesh, but he finds that he likes it; he likes everything about her, really, but the way she seems to lose herself every time they kiss might just be his favorite thing.

He gently grabs her shoulders and pushes her against the now-closed door, pressing his entire body against hers, still not breaking the kiss. He sucks at her bottom lip, softly at first, and then harder, his teeth now barely scratching her flesh, and a low groan escapes from her throat, her nails now fully digging at the flesh of his arms. His hands move lower, the tips of his fingers moving through her scalp, then her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her hips, before they move to her lower back and stop there, pulling her even closer to him. She breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, and lets go of his arm to move one hand to his face, caressing his cheekbone with her fingertips. He closes his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers, and when he opens his eyes, her gaze is boring into his, as if trying to make him understand how much she really loves him, how much she will always love him. He kisses her again, briefly, and moves his own hand to rest on top of hers.

“I love you,” he whispers in reply, the intensity of her gaze almost burning through him and leaving him speechless, breathless.

He’s struck by how much he  _ wants  _ her in that moment. He wants her in every way possible, and even though now he knows she is his, for better or for worse, for the rest of their lives, he needs to show her how much he loves her and wants her and appreciates her. And standing there, the moonlight reflecting on her face, he knows how.

She seems to read his thoughts, as always, because she slides her free arm around his neck, tangling her fingers on his hair, and kisses him, this time with slightly more urgency, more heat. He deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing hers slowly at first and then harder, and her grip on his hair tightens. He moves both of his hands to her thighs now, his fingers gripping the hem of her dress and lifting it slowly.

She breaks the kiss and softens her grip on his hair. “Fitz,” she pants, “please,  _ please  _ make love to me right now.”

Her voice goes straight to his lower stomach. He nods, completely incapable of coherent words right now, and in a swift move he grips her thighs hard and lifts her up, eliciting a surprised yelp from her, followed by laughter. She wraps her legs around his waist, then, and her arms around his neck, and lets herself be carried to the bed.

Instead of putting her down on the bed, he sits on the edge, her legs still wrapped around him, so she’s straddling him. Her torso is pressed tightly against his, and he can feel the heat radiating from every single part of her; she shifts so her knees are now on either side of his thighs and she sinks down, resting on his lap, and looks at him from under her eyelashes. He can’t resist her anymore and kisses her, once again paying more attention to her bottom lip, and his hands, first resting on her thighs, start sliding up, painfully slowly, until his fingertips are barely touching her ass, and she presses into him at the feeling, making him groan and kiss her harder.

They stay like that for a while, lazily making out in the dark, hands exploring each other’s bodies, Jemma straddling Fitz’s lap and shifting against him every few minutes. They revel in each other’s presence, in the feel of each other’s body, and simply enjoy the moment without feeling the need to go further, but a while later their kisses start to turn more urgent, their touches harder, and Jemma moves her fingers to his chest, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt before starting to undo them, one by one, until her hands are resting on his bare lower stomach. 

“Your hands are  _ really  _ warm,” he says, grinning, and she snorts, before placing a kiss on his neck and sliding his shirt over his arms until it’s no longer on his body, and undoing the fly of his pants. Even though it’s only been about five months, it feels like a lifetime since the first time they slept together, back in that hotel room in Bucharest; either way, and even if Jemma originally had  _ slightly  _ different plans for this trip, she would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine this moment, right here, is where they were always supposed to end up: happy, together, and about to start the rest of their lives.

“Plot twist,” she whispers. He doesn’t freeze, barely even notices her tucking a finger in his belt loop and when she starts to tug his pants down, he lifts his hips up to allow her to fully take them off, and his bulge brushes against her center for a moment, making her let out a mixture between a laugh and a groan. His fingers trace her spine from her lower back to her neck, and he finds the zipper of her dress, undoing it slowly.

Gravity works on her dress immediately, making it slide down and pool around her hips, revealing her bare chest. When he looks at her questioningly, she shrugs. “I didn’t feel like wearing a bra.”

He swallows, his gaze fixed on her breasts, and leans in to place a long kiss right on her neck. He starts making his way down her neck with his mouth, and before she knows he’s pecking on her sternum, once, twice, before his attention is focused elsewhere and his mouth goes to her nipple, licking and nibbling and sucking. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself and the way his actions make her skin feel hotter and filled with goosebumps, and his enjoyment makes itself obvious on his crotch, which makes her legs tighten on both sides of his lap, as a way to get closer to him. Her hands go straight to his hair, nails digging in his scalp, and her back arches in pressure at the feeling of his mouth; he has to place both of his hands on her back to prevent her from falling backwards, and takes advantage of their current place to pull her even closer to him, his fingertips so hard on her skin she was sure he would leave bruises.

He switches every few moments from one breast to the other, focusing all of his attention on them, on making her feel good. He should’ve known, really, how much he would enjoy being able to taste her skin like this, how much he would be enthralled by her breasts, how much he would cherish the feeling of her rabbit-quick heartbeat on his cheek and the humming of her progressively louder moans resonating inside her chest, but he would’ve never guessed how this would become one of his favorite activities in the entire world; there’s no other thing he would rather be doing right now, or ever.

Her entire body feels like it’s burning with pleasure and want, and she rolls her hips against his, to try and find some release and to let him know it’s time to go further. She looks at him, and he looks up at her from between her breasts, his lips red and swollen. Her hands shift from the back of his head to his face, trying to move his head closer to hers so she can kiss him, and when their lips finally meet again, her teeth graze his lower lip and she nibs at it.

When he breaks the kiss, she’s panting. “Don’t get me wrong,” she says, voice deep and breathy, “I am enjoying this a lot–”

“But?” he says, and she pecks him on the lips, as a thank you for always being able to read her mind. 

“But I need you, right now,” she finishes. His hands, previously on her back, start moving lower, and lower, until they’re back on her ass, and he pushes her closer.

“We have time, though,” he says, and she rolls her hips against his again, her mouth going to the pulse point on his neck, kissing and sucking at it. 

“Exactly,” she says, as they roll their hips together, faster and more erratically with every second that passes, “we have  _ all  _ the time in the world to—oh don’t stop that—make love in every way possible and—oh God—really, I am  _ so close  _ already that if we keep doing this I’m not gonna— _ ah _ , I’m not gonna last very long.”

His nails are now digging in the skin of her ass as they keep moving, his bulge rubbing on her in a way that’s driving them both insane, and she’s breathing heavily, her teeth biting at the skin of his neck to keep from making obscene noises. He doesn’t trust his voice not to break so he doesn’t say anything, instead he moves his hands a few inches up to grab her dress and lift it up, and a moment later it’s discarded on the floor; then, he tugs at the hem of her underwear and nudges her chest with his nose, trying to let her know he was gonna need some help.

She nods, and gently tackles him so he tumbles backwards, back hitting the bed. She’s still straddling him, but this way it’s easier for her to lift her hips and pull her panties down in a swift motion, leaving her completely bare. His bulge now feels uncomfortably restricted, and she doesn’t waste any time in tugging at his underwear to pull it off too; for the second time that night, he lifts his hips and they meet hers again, except now they are fully uncovered, absolutely no clothing between them. She lowers her own hips to rest her weight on his lower stomach, and his now thankfully-free erection pokes at her thigh.

She leans down to meet him again, her chest pressing against his. Their lips meet and they kiss, passionately, intimately, as in sync as they’ve always been, and she slides one arm behind his neck, using the other one for support. 

“Sit down again,” she instructs, after breaking the kiss. His hands go to her hips for support, and he lifts his torso, finding himself in a sitting position again, her legs straddling his lap just like they were a few moments ago. This time, though, when she adjusts her position, it’s in a way that leaves him hovering right over her entrance, and she lowers her face to meet his, their lips clashing again, before she sinks onto him. 

It doesn’t get any less overwhelming, the feeling of her heat surrounding him. This is not the first time they make love, and now he’s certain that it won’t be the last, but this is the closest they can possibly be. Being physically as connected as they’ve always been in spirit, completely bare in front of each other in every way possible, their bodies pressed together in the tightest of embraces, her legs and arms wrapped around him, his hands digging at her hips to hold her steady… it’s almost a spiritual experience, as if they could somehow reach a higher state just by making love, just by being together.

She barely takes any time to adjust to his length and before he knows it, she’s riding him, fast and hard, their hips clashing with every little jump, his mouth sucking at her clavicle and his nails digging so hard at her hips he’s sure he will leave some visible scratches—he could feel bad about that, but she is definitely scratching his back without any remorse whatsoever, her head thrown back in pleasure. He lifts his hips every time she lowers herself onto him, to meet her halfway, and soon they find a rhythm that leaves them both on edge in a matter of minutes. 

Their movements start to become more inconsistent the closer they are to their climax, and soon she’s gripping his shoulders, breathing erratically. “I’m not gonna last much longer,” she breathes out. He holds her closer to him, and his mouth finds hers; they kiss for a few seconds before he leans his forehead against hers and looks at her.

“Don’t hold back,” he says, and lifts his hips harder than he was already doing, just as he sinks onto him again, and he feels her tightening around him. 

A moment later she’s shuddering and finally, she climaxes, letting out an obscene, loud moan, her mouth wide open and eyes closed tight. She rolls her hips, trying to get some friction, and the sight of her coming apart in his arms, naked and bare and so, so beautiful, that’s enough to send him over the edge too. She holds him, placing soft, wet kisses all over his face and neck, while he rides out his orgasm, and in that moment he could swear he has never felt so loved in his life.

They stay right there, holding each other, kissing lazily, the aftermath sending little electric shocks all over their bodies.

-o-

A while later, when they’re lying side by side on top of the messy sheets, her head resting on his chest, she finally speaks.

“See,” she says, though it comes out more as a breath, “this is why I’m glad I married you.”

He snorts, placing a kiss on her hair. “Is that the only reason?” he asks, and she looks at him, the brightest grin on her lips.

“Not at all,” she says, and kisses his chest for emphasis, right where his heart should be, as she moves her hand to grab his, tangling their fingers together, “I married you because I love you more than I love anybody else on this planet or any other planet,” she kisses his clavicle, “and because you make me feel like the happiest woman in the universe,” she kisses his neck, “and because even though the sex is definitely the best I’ve ever had, it’s not even in the top five of the list of reasons why I love being with you,” she kisses his jaw, “and because I know I can trust you with my life because you would never do anything to purposefully hurt me,” she kisses his cheek, “and because even if I had tried to think of any reasons why we shouldn’t be married, I wouldn’t have been able to think of anything, when I already knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with you either way,” she kisses the corner of his lips, “and because to be honest I just loved the idea of being able to call you my husband even though you’ve only been my boyfriend for five months,” she kisses him full on the lips, though he doesn’t kiss her back because he’s smiling too hard.

“So, just for the record, you don’t think this is a mistake?” he asks her, but the smile on his lips is enough to let her know he’s not worried in the slightest about her answer.

“Being with you forever could never be a mistake in my book,” she replies, and kisses him again.

They hold each other until they fall asleep.

 

_iv. deep in her eyes i think i see the future_

The beach is decorated with fairy lights, and this time there are no gray clouds in the sky, so they walk in, hand in hand, the moonlight reflecting on their bodies.

The music is loud enough to drown their voices and their thoughts, so they don’t do much talking at first, instead focus on everyone else’s laughter and dancing and just sit next to each other, enjoying the glee that seems to be part of everything they do these days.

They sit on one of the benches drinking cocktails—non-alcoholic for Jemma, which Fitz found odd but didn’t comment on—and trying to talk over the loud music; once they realize having a conversation is impossible, they simply sit and observe their surroundings.

Sometime later, after their cocktails are forgotten and most people have left, Fitz stands up from the bench and holds out a hand. Jemma looks confused for a moment, but takes it anyway, and he pulls her up with enough force to make her crash against his body with a thump and making her chuckle.

“What–?” she starts, but he holds both of her hands and moves them up to place them on his shoulders, and then he rests his hands on her hips.

“We’re slow dancing,” he explains, “since we didn’t have a first dance.”

She laughs openly now, and rests her forehead against his, looking at him from under his eyelashes. “That’s gonna be a great story to tell our kids someday,” she deadpans, and Fitz throws his head back, laughing, “  _ ‘oh, yes, darling, my first dance with your dad was at a beach party, and What Makes You Beautiful was playing’.  _ ”

“See, that’s exactly why we have to do it,” he reasons, and starts swaying, even if the song is not slow enough for a slow dance. Jemma shakes her head but follows his lead anyway, and they sway silently with One Direction playing in the background, barely containing their laughter and ignoring the funny looks they’re getting from the other people. When the song is over, they don’t stop swaying, and instead they hold each other closer, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

Then, another song starts playing, and Jemma’s face lights up.

“Oh, my God!” she exclaims, her voice almost breaking with excitement, “Fitz, this was my parents’ wedding song!  _ This  _ is the perfect first dance song. Mum’s gonna cry when I tell her—though, now that I think about it, I just realized I have to tell my parents I got married–” she rambles on, and in the background,  _ Can’t Help Falling In Love _ plays. Fitz has to admit that, while not the song he would’ve chosen, it was pretty accurate for their situation, so he holds her tighter while she rambles and presses a kiss to her forehead, and they sway to the beat.

Halfway through the song, Jemma stops swaying and just stands there, talking non-stop, so Fitz slides an arm around her waist and lifts her up a few inches, pulling her closer so her feet are on top of his. She yelps, and holds his shoulders tighter.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and he shrugs.

“You’re not dancing anymore, so I thought I could do it for both of us,” he replies, and she swats his arm. 

“I’m stepping on you, idiot, you can’t dance with all this weight on your feet,” she retorts, moving to step down from his feet, but he pulls her closer, so she sighs in resignation and stays put. 

“This will help me practice,” he says, and Jemma looks at him, confused. “For when we have kids,” he explains. “Mum used to do this with me all the time and I always said I would do it with my kids someday. Plus, you’re not exactly  _ heavy _ , so…”

Understanding dawns on her, and her face softens. She finally steps down and unwraps his arms from around her waist, holding his hands between both of them. 

_ It’s now or never _ , she thinks. This is where her original plan for this holiday is set in motion.

“Uh, Fitz?” she mutters, looking down at the sand. Fitz lets go of one of her hands and moves it to her chin, lifting her gaze back to him. When she looks at him, the worry is evident on his face.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, and she shakes her head, swallowing hard. 

She knows he’s not gonna be unhappy or angry or any of that and, if anything, he might even be excited, but there’s a part of her, a not-so-small part, that worries about what this means for her, for  _ them _ , and what this is going to ultimately do to their relationship. She’s nervous, and even if the past twenty-four hours have proven to her that Fitz will stay by her side no matter what, there’s still some uncertainty left in her.

She closes her eyes. “No, not at all,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Actually, um, about that…”

“What?” 

She opens her eyes, then, and her gaze pierces through him. He shivers.

She takes a deep breath. “I may or may not be pregnant?”

For a moment, it’s like time has stopped. Fitz looks at her, completely speechless, and she can’t bear to look at him, so she looks away; his face is expressionless, and he’s standing still, almost in shock. It’s not until about ten seconds have passed when he finally speaks and, when he does, his voice breaks.

“You… may or may not?” he asks, and Jemma stares for one second before bursting into loud laughter. Of  _ course  _ that is what he would focus on. She sits on the sand, hysterical laughter bubbling out of her, and he stands next to her, still too shocked to move or to say anything until she leans her head against his knees.

“I mean, I am 100% sure I’m pregnant,” she explains, “I took two pregnancy tests and did blood work on myself to be sure. I’m definitely pregnant.”

He sits next to her, his body more stiff than usual, and when he finally looks at her, his face is no longer expressionless. To her relief, there are tears in his eyes, and he’s beaming at her.

“You can’t just… just  _ dump  _ this on me, Jemma,” he says, still smiling. “You knew before we came here?” he asks her, and she nods in response. “That’s why we came here, right? That was your original plan? A romantic getaway to tell me you’re pregnant?” She nods again, and he buries his face in his hands—mostly, she knows, to hide the fact that he just can’t stop grinning. Jemma is now smiling openly. She knows for sure now; he wants this just as much as she does.

She places a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He laughs. “Is it bad that all I can think of right now is that I ruined your original plan?” he says, completely serious, and she bursts into hysterical laughter again, which he joins a moment later.

They don’t notice the music has stopped.

-o-

They stay up to watch the sunrise from their cabin. It’s appropriate, in a way, for them to witness the sun rising once again; it’s a new beginning, a new day, and for them it goes way beyond that. It’s the start of a new life.

She leans against the railing on the balcony, and he stands behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, resting on her still-flat belly. He absentmindedly presses kisses on her neck, as she leans her head against his shoulder, and they watch the sun go up in silence.

“I have a question,” he says, quietly, still staring at the horizon in front of them. She hums in response. “Why didn’t you tell me before we got married?”

She shrugs. “I was planning to, you know, but then you basically asked me to elope,” he snorts, “and it didn’t occur to me to tell you until I was thinking of my vows.”

“So that’s why you mentioned that,” he says, and she nods. 

“Are you angry?” she asks. He instinctively holds her closer.

“What? No! Not at all!” he replies. “Jem, we’re having a baby. A  _ baby _ . Our baby. How could I possibly be angry?”

She turns around to face him, and leans against his chest, arms around his waist. His hands go to the small of her back, and he places a small kiss on her hair.

“I know it’s unexpected,” she says, “and I know this is gonna change our entire lives, and we’re probably gonna have to quit SHIELD now, but…”

“But you’re excited,” he finishes for her, his voice infinitely soft. She nods, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “I know. I’m trying to remain calm and collected but all I can think of is how unbelievably excited I am about the fact that we’re going to be parents.”

“Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” she asks. He snorts.

“Oh, we  _ definitely  _ are,” he replies, and she laughs in response. “We’ve been married for 36 hours and we’re already having a baby.”

“Well,” she states, “we had been together less than a day when he first slept together.”

He kisses her on the neck and takes one step forward, pressing her body against the railing once again.

“It’s the point of no return,” he whispers, mirroring the conversation they had what feels like a lifetime ago, and she smiles, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. 

“You know I love you, right?” she says against his lips, once she breaks the kiss. He kisses the tip of her nose in response. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you and our baby for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t wait, either,” he replies, and kisses her again.

Behind them, the sun rises.

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, the title of each part comes from the Walk The Moon song that inspired it.  
> -The first part ("I've got my hand in my pocket and there's a diamond at my fingertips") comes from We Are the Kids  
> -The second part ("we've been waiting but we're next in line") comes from Next In Line  
> -The third part ("in the low light, two white shadows become one") comes from Come Under the Covers  
> -The last part ("deep in her eyes, I think I see the future") comes from Shut Up and Dance.  
> Please listen to Walk The Moon. Please _love_ Walk The Moon.
> 
> Now..... Christ, this completely got away from me. Like, it was going to be something else entirely and suddenly my brain was like NO, WRITE THEM ELOPING AND HAVING BABIES and I was like okay _fine_ . We deserve all of the unrealistic, shameless fluff this hiatus. And I can't stop thinking about them having babies so [shrugs]. Here it is, it's out in the world, I can finally study for my finals and have normal sleeping patterns! I hope you all enjoyed it and excused the complete lack of chill and/or realistic plots. Who needs plots when FS can get married and have babies, am I right? 
> 
> I can't thank Cindy enough for cheerleading and beta-ing and yelling with me and telling me my writing doesn't suck, so really, this is for her.


End file.
